I thought it would be a good time to reach out via the blog and check in. I know you hear from me with each Single Because Podcast episode, but I’m in need of this sort of contact with all of you.

I’ve been on and off dating apps over the last year. I’ve even had a few experiences that have gone beyond a date or two. Alas, in the words of U2, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. It’s not for lack of trying, though.

Who am I kidding? Here’s the truth, I’ve been half-assing it most of the time, even with men who might be mistaken for the models on the over-50 dating site ads.

Sometimes it’s just a boatload of aggravation getting dressed up, applying makeup and then squeezing into fucking shapewear to make small talk with a stranger. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to look across the table at a gorgeous man, and I’ve dated quite a few lately. But, here’s what I’ve discovered and it’s likely because of my age:

It’s not enough.

Now, I don’t mean it’s not enough long-term, what I’m saying is a pretty face won’t cut it even for the casual horizontal hula. Sex just isn’t fulfilling if the person doesn’t grab me—and by grab, I mean all of me. I need smarts, humor and someone with an interesting life. A little swagger doesn’t hurt either. Sheesh, I’m not asking for the moon. All right, the section of my dating profile that states, “Must have given a TED Talk and, don’t try to squeak by with TEDx,” might seem, um, delusional to some.

C’est la vie!

Kill me now.

I’ve also found I would rather focus on my writing. Coupling up just isn’t as important as it once was. I often feel that I’m living my life backward and when I hear people my age speak of retirement I can’t help but shudder.

I married and had my daughters quite young, got divorced, raised them and worked a job I enjoyed but it wasn’t my passion. It was satisfying enough and it paid the bills.

Then, I had a great big beautiful love and was widowed—all by the time I was 45. I didn’t have my twenties to find myself, act irresponsibly then begin to establish a career that was based on work I loved. I’ve only had that for the last eight years and I still haven’t really accomplished anything, dammit! Well, maybe the irresponsible part, just a bit.

I want professional success and that’s really where I’ve been laser-focused. I finished the book about my year of online dating. I’ve sent it out to agents and small publishing houses not requiring an agent submission, but haven’t had much interest. I’ll keep trying and may eventually self-publish if I can’t sell the darn thing.

I worked with a friend of mine, Michael, a talented screenwriter who’s had an amazing career and worked for several major studios. Together, we created a scripted series based on the blog and book. Michael was a wonderful teacher as we wrote the pilot script and bible and although he’s not one for collaborating, he was kind enough to make an exception. The series, a dramedy, is made for streaming services or cable (lots of swearing). It is called, “Broken Heals” and we’d love to find an audience.

I’ve also been writing a memoir based on the two years my husband and I lived in Russia called, “Mudderland.” Since I had a crash course in screenwriting and wasn’t sure how much I’d retain, I went ahead and created a scripted series, a comedy, based on the book that I’m still in the process of writing. This is a comedy because our life in Russia is a ridiculous gift that keeps on giving–if one is writing about it after the fact instead of living in the craziness, of course. I have the pilot script and series bible finished. “Mudderland” is another project I would love to sell. It’s hard (some have told me impossible) to sell these projects as an unknown, and that’s exactly what I am. If I could finagle a way to get the right eyes on either or both, who knows what might happen? I’m not sure how, but I’m going to keep pushing. With all the female-driven work finally getting attention through people like Reece Witherspoon and her Hello Sunshine production company, all it takes is one person to read it and believe it’s a story that should be told.

So now you know all that’s going on in my life–lots of work and very little lust. BUT, I’m happy and busy and I’m feeling fulfilled. Not as content as I would be if I could actually figure out a way to support myself with my work–but I’m doing everything I can to get there.

I was recently in a DatingAdvice.com article, and if you’re interested, you can read it HERE. It was an unexpected and wonderful surprise and while you’re there, check out the site. DatingAdvice.com is the leading web authority on dating and an excellent resource.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday and New Year. I don’t know about you but I was glad to put 2017 in the rearview mirror. I haven’t slept through the night in over a year. As my grandmother used to say, “Every night I’m up and down like a whore at a picnic.” The cause of my insomnia is clear: the fucking nightmare that is Donald Trump and his insane administration. I never thought I’d worry about nuclear war. I can’t even get out of bed without looking at Twitter. I need to know what that lunatic will destroy next.

*takes a deep cleansing breath*

Here’s wishing everyone peace, joy and restful sleep in 2018. What’s new with you? Feel free to dish some dirt in the comments section. I always love hearing about your lives.

PS: I’ve really missed you.

Melani

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.”Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday was the first day of spring–and it snowed. I can’t think of a more perfect analogy for the current state of my love life.

I’ve been on many first dates lately—all that began brimming with hope and anticipation of possible growth into something more. Rather like the delicate jade-colored leaves that have begun to appear on the honeysuckle vines planted on my terrace. The ones I know will turn a darker shade of green as they grow and cover the trellis just as they did last summer.

There was the date on Valentine’s Day with a lovely man from Boston. Sure the distance was an obstacle but I’d successfully dealt with that before. I was hopeful, but in his desire to learn more he did something I wish he hadn’t: read every single word I’d ever written and thought he knew me. I can always tell when someone has read my stuff. There’s a false familiarity that makes me squirm. I always ask men to hold off on reading my work and instead form an opinion based on our dates, but he was a master Google-er and had done so before our first meeting. He sent me a bouquet of tulips two weeks later when I wasn’t feeling well, (flower choice was prompted by a blog post from two years ago about my late husband giving me tulips). It turned creepy. His intentions were honorable, for sure, but the depth of his digging left me feeling as if he’d rummaged through my underwear drawer or read my diary.

Then there was a douchebag writer who had me fooled for a minute. He asked lots of questions, and after thoughtfully answering each one; he implied that I was monopolizing the conversation. He also got offended when I made a generalization about writers and the reasons I don’t usually date them. Believe me, my research may not be scientific but I’d bet the farm on its accuracy. Did I mention that he mentioned (four times) that he was in therapy? All within the first thirty minutes of the date, mind you. Or that he made a joke about a well known sexual predator getting sex during a time when he wasn’t getting any at all? Maybe I’m too judgmental because after all he writes comedy and there’s nothing funnier than rape humor, right?

Next I had a date with a kind and handsome man who’d graciously understood when I had to cancel our first date. When we eventually rescheduled I was looking forward to it. Five minutes into our date I knew there was nothing wrong with him but I felt absolutely zero chemistry as we sat next to each other at the bar. He kept brushing my leg with his and at one point took my hand. Awkward. It didn’t help that there was another man who’d passed by on his way to an empty seat and we exchanged mutual holy-shit-you’re-hot eye contact. Each time I glanced that stranger’s way, he was looking at me with the same intensity. I finally turned my chair away from his distracting and enticing gaze so as not to be rude to my date. When our evening ended I split the check. It was fair, as I had no intention of dating him again. He even said, “There’s a theory that when a woman splits the check on a first date there’s not going to be a second.” We parted with a kiss that went quickly from first date appropriate to “Oh god, don’t use your tongue!” I pulled away and headed to my apartment as he waited for an Uber. As I walked I thought about the man at the bar and a missed opportunity. I stopped for a moment and looked back to see if my date had gotten his ride. He hadn’t and caught me looking back. I felt guilty and wondered if he’d figured out I was contemplating a return. I turned and continued to my apartment but once there I asked my doorman for a Post-it and wrote, “I was on a first date but you definitely caught my eye. I think I caught yours, as well. If I’m right, I hope you’ll call.” I signed it, added my cell number and headed back to the bistro, certain that my date’s Uber had arrived. I skulked around the corner and was relieved to see he was gone.

Unfortunately, I discovered the handsome stranger was nowhere to be found either. I asked the bartender if he had moved to the restaurant for dinner. My plan was to walk up to him, hand him the Post-it and exit. He was with a male friend and I had no desire to be intrusive. She told me he and his friend had left. Dammit! She also said, “He’s in here all the time but I think he’s gay.” Perfect. I told her that I believed we had a connection. The restaurant manager (definitely gay) was passing by so the bartender called him over and asked, “Are the guys who were sitting here gay?” He rolled his eyes, “Of course they’re gay.”

There you have it: my guaranteed attraction to a gay man with whom I am certain is straight. It is a theme that started with Boy George, continued to George Michael and is clearly still going strong.

The following day I turned off Discovery on my Tinder and Bumble accounts. If you’re not familiar with the apps, that means my profile is hidden. I’m in need of a break. Early this morning, with my puffer coat covering my pajamas I headed outside to survey the snow damage to those new, fragile honeysuckle leaves. Some had browned overnight as they gave up and succumbed to the freeze, but other tenacious ones were still hanging in there with a defiant “screw you” to the unpredictable elements.

I sit here at 11:35am (still in my pajamas as I type this). And as it pertains to digital dating and the precariousness of the process, I wonder:

Which leaf am I?

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!'” Robin Williams

My name is Melani Robinson and I’m a writer/blogger, and online dating expert living in New York City on the Upper West Side. READ MORE